Careful, Princess, Your Tiara is Crooked
by griffinandblake
Summary: Clarke wants to think of anyone except Finn tonight. She wants to have fun. AU where Finn never set up a meeting with the grounders. Fluff. One-shot.


**Careful, Princess, Your Tiara's Crooked**

She feels light, like her head is full of helium and is about to lift her off the ground. More than light she feels _good_. She hasn't felt good since that night at the arts and crafts store with Finn and that feels like ages ago. It _was_ ages ago. Clarke doesn't even feel like the same girl that let Finn tuck her hair behind her ear and make her feel like everything was going to be okay. She sighs and bites down lightly on her bottom lip. Tonight she isn't going to think about Finn. She's going to think about someone else. _Anyone_ else.

Her eyes roam over the campground, searching for someone to talk to. After quickly dismissing some of the shadiest delinquents she finds Jasper still manning the moonshine, except instead of pouring everyone else a glass he has the giant jug tipped back to his lips like an over-sized baby bottle. _Bad idea,_ she thinks. Jasper is too hung up on Octavia and, as of now, one of the only people in camp that actually likes her. She needs someone she doesn't know well enough for it to matter, someone who isn't going to expect anything serious. Tonight is about fun.

She glances over near the center of the party where a few people are playing a crude form of quarters. That's when she sees Sterling. He's cute, and he was thrown in lock-up for a minor offence. "Perfect," she whispers to herself and saunters over to the make-shift table, the booze making her more confident than usual.

She lightly taps Sterling on the shoulder and puts on what she hopes is a flirty smile, "Mind if I play?'

The smile must have worked, or at least something did, because he eyes her appreciatively from head to toe and gives her a curt nod.

"Not at all, but I feel like it's only right to warn you that I've won the last three rounds. Still sure you want to take me on?" he grins devilishly and she finds herself grinning back.

"I'm always up for a challenge," she nods and raises an eyebrow, issuing an challenge of her own.

"You familiar with the rules?"

"I'm ready when you are." If she was being honest she had only touched alcohol twice in her life. Once on her sixteenth birthday when her parents allowed her to "celebrate" and whiskey on Earth, but the game couldn't be that complicated. She was sure she would pick it up as they went along. "Who's starting?"

"Ladies first," Sterling says with a smirk as he brushes his thick blonde hair from his forehead. She's not sure if the twinkle in his eyes is from the firelight or mischief, but she likes it either way.

"I want to see my competition in action first," she says quickly, "I have to see what I'm up against. Let's see if you can back your claims. I think you're all talk." The other people around the table chuckle and look to Sterling.

"Ooooh, alright," he says with a laugh. "Don't say I didn't warn you though."

She should have listened. Three rounds and three losses later and Clarke is standing stock still, but the world is still spinning.

"You are _really_ good at this game," she sputters. At least she tries to. It ends up coming out as more of a mesh of vowels and consonants that don't sound right even to her ears. She tries to take a step back to get a better angle on the cup in front of her, but ends up hitting something solid. She nearly falls, but large hands wrap firmly around her upper arms and steady her. She giggles and covers her mouth before turning around. "I am _so_ sorry," she says, still giggling. "So, so sorry. I didn't see you there." She lolls her head up sloppily and gets a mouthful of blonde hair in the process. She wipes a hand across her mouth and spits it out with another giggle and focuses on the person in front of her "Bellamy!" she exclaims when she realizes who it is. "Did you decide to have fun after all? I'm so glad you did. You're so grumpy_ all the time._ And people think _I _need to lighten up!"

"You're drunk," he says flatly, but the glint in his eye and slight upturn of his mouth tell her he's more amused than anything.

"Uh, duh," she says and picks up her glass. She has it poised to her lips when he takes it gently from her hand. She tries to swipe it away, but he holds it over her head. "No fair," she whines, "we can't all be obnoxiously tall."

Bellamy laughs and shakes his head. "You hate me so much my height annoys you?"

"Oh, no," she says with a shake of her head, "It's your mouth that annoys me. Everything else is good. Really good." She gives him thumbs up and a stupid grin which causes him to laugh again, almost disbelievingly this time.

"Okay, now I know for a fact you've had way too much to drink," he says and wraps an arm around her waist. She would protest, but walking seems like a really hard thing to do on her own right now, so she doesn't.

"Hey, wait!" she says, stopping in her tracks, "I was playing a game!"

"Game's over, Princess," Bellamy says simply and gently pulls her forward.

"I was having _fun_, Bellamy. Do you know how long it's been since I've had fun?" She sighs and leans her head over on his shoulder for support. The world seems to spin a little bit less with him holding her steady.

His voice is soft when he replies, "Probably a really long time."

"It's been a long time for you too, hasn't it?" she asks and clutches the fabric of his jacket tightly in her fingertips. His body is big and warm and she would like to stay tucked under his arm forever even though she knows how crazy that is.

"Yeah, it has," he says quietly as they reach her tent. He looks down at her and smiles. "This isn't half bad though."

"You're not half bad, Bellamy Blake," she looks up from her place on his shoulder and quickly realizes they're sharing the same air.

"Think so?" He asks and she can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows nervously.

"Mmhm," she whispers, afraid to say too much. She feels herself leaning closer, almost involuntarily. She feels almost drawn in, like she can't help herself.

Bellamy lets out a slow breath and she feels it fan over her face, warm in the cold night. "You're drunk, Clarke," he whispers, removing his hand from her waist to place it lightly on the side of her neck, his thumb running softly over her jaw line. She closes her eyes and sighs contentedly.

"I know," she whispers back, licking her bottom lip and leaning slightly closer. Her stomach flips and she's pretty sure it's not from the alcohol.

"You'll regret it in the morning," he says, using his free hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"So what?" She asks, opening her eyes and looking up at him as he closes his.

"Goodnight, Clarke," he says quietly and uses the hand on her neck to pull her forehead to his lips.

"Night, Bellamy," she answers as her shoulders deflate slightly. She watches as he turns and walks away, disappearing into his tent without looking back. She sighs to herself and crawls into her own. She gets into bed and wraps the blankets tightly around her shoulders. Without Bellamy's body heat she suddenly feels cold. She shakes her head and half smiles, she didn't expect him to be the one she fell asleep thinking of. Maybe she should have.


End file.
